


1650

by choppedmint (forevermint)



Series: The Road Not Taken [22]
Category: The Morganville Vampires - Rachel Caine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forevermint/pseuds/choppedmint
Summary: ORIGIN "Aggressive: 1650": Yet another difficult story to write. Moreso because it’s the end. No happy endings, no resolution. Just this. Just the end. Which didn’t really help, because I had just reached the same ending in one of my RPs and it was just as bad. Still. This story is still something I saw a purpose in writing. Though every bone in my body - the ones that like happy endings - hate this. The last parts are excerpts both from a small section of info on Arthur Dee and a bit of an RP post where Myrnin was explaining unfinished business.
Relationships: Myrnin (Morganville Vampires)/Arthur Dee
Series: The Road Not Taken [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558276





	1650

The actual end happened the day after (or rather, deep into the night that) Arthur go the letter. But Arthur had been left to stew over what had happened, and it hadn’t been good for him. The fight didn’t start with anything big, at least by Arthur’s standards. He just asked a question. A question he hadn’t asked before.  
“Where did you go?”  
He was sitting at the desk again, his seat back in the same place. Myrnin had at least come through the front door, if slowly. He looked at Arthur like he wasn’t surprised the other man had waited up for him.  
“It isn’t anything,” he murmured lightly. He wasn’t meeting Arthur’s eyes. Arthur didn’t buy it.  
He took his legs off the counter, swinging them off the table and standing up in one movement. “You always do that. Leave. Why? Where do you even go? I thought you didn’t have a house.”  
Myrnin cast a look at Arthur, eyes meeting for a second before falling again. “I just … go out. Walk. Not a big deal.”  
He was lying. God, he was a horrible liar when cornered. And he looked cornered too. He was edging bit by bit for the door to the back room.  
“I think it’s a bigger deal then you make it out to be. What is it? Where are you going? You leave every day, or just about.”  
Myrnin’s eyes snapped up again, a puzzled expression on his face. But though he looked confused, he still seemed closed off. “What?”  
 _You’re bringing this up because emotions are already high, Arthur. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t –_  
“Well, maybe you wont care that much if I leave then. For all I know, I’m just room and board. Certainly not worth enough to be told where my … my friend goes for two hours out of every day. Sometimes more. Nice to know. Glad you’re happy. Since I won’t inquire about your well-being again. Must be a relief; I’m not going to be around to ask questions.”  
“ _What_?” Myrnin said again, feathers clearly getting ruffled. “Look. I said it wasn’t important. It really isn’t! What are you even implying? I don’t even know anyone else in London other than you. Remember? Homeless person on the street a year back? The man who’s lucky to hold a conversation without noticing a random flying butterfly! You honestly think I’m going ‘somewhere’? Or that I’m somehow here just to get food off you! I’m lucky if I have one person in my life who even gives me the time of day!”  
He was forcing a fake smile, like he wanted to show Arthur just how silly he was being.  
Part of Arthur knew he was being silly. But the other part, the part that was raging at the letter, didn’t think it was that silly. Myrnin had things going on. Not all of which was explainable. He was tired of knowing Myrnin wasn’t telling him things. On a good day, he could excuse it. He could understand that Myrnin would always be a bit of a mystery.  
But today wasn’t a good day.  
“Oh, nice going. Ignoring the whole point. Where do you go? Why does it matter if I know or not? _If it’s not important then why does it matter_?” Arthur took a step forward, looking up the few inches that Myrnin had over him. He was older then the other man by about two years, but Myrnin was taller. In a year, apart from some haircuts, there hadn’t been much change in Myrnin. Nothing physical. He had started to become a bit less prone to the distant looks he got in their first meetings, but that was the only change Arthur had ever noticed.  
Myrnin looked down; Arthur expected him to back off, like he always did. It wasn’t often that Arthur shouted, but Myrnin didn’t like it when he did. On the other hand, Myrnin shouted rather a lot.  
But he didn’t back down this time. He didn’t answer the question.  
“I. Can’t. Tell. You,” he said, looking pained. “I don’t want to make this worse!”  
“It already is!” spat Arthur. “You dodge so many of my personal questions. Who your parents were. Where you were born. How you know so much. All of it! And you say you can’t leave London but don’t give me a good reason why. I think that’s pretty bad, what about you? You know who my father is, you know my whole story. But I don’t know a _scrap_ about you! And now this is just another damn thing you can’t tell me!”  
Myrnin’s eyebrows knit together, a storm raging behind his green eyes. “I thought we already agreed that what I kept to myself I could keep to myself. Apparently, that’s only up to the point when you want to use it against me! Maybe there’s a reason I can’t tell you. Maybe I think it’s better that way! But you don’t think about that, do you? You just think about your stupid shop! Like that’s all that matters!”  
Arthur gritted his teeth, aware that Myrnin had hit a few nerves. He held in a wince. “Fear isn’t an excuse to hold back! If you think I’d get mad, then _good for you_. Because I’m already furious. You know what I think? Maybe you should leave for good next time. Maybe that ‘family’ of yours, _which you never talk about_ , would prefer you.”  
Myrnin winced at the mention of being afraid and Arthur knew he’d gotten that right. Arthur sneered. Myrnin’s eyes were slits. Lips pressed tightly together, he said, “Maybe I should. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your new job or anything like that. Wouldn’t want to get in the way. I mean, maybe I’d been thinking about visiting my ‘family’ anyway, asking after a new city. Maybe London’s gotten too crowded and maybe I thought ended up somewhere along your path was a better idea. But, you know, maybe I like London. I think I’ll just stay.” He took a step back, shoulders stiff. “But I think it’s gotten a bit stuffy in here. Maybe it’s the newly minted ‘important man’. I should probably give him space. Apparently, a year wasn’t enough for me to be worthy of your trust.”  
“Same to you!” snapped Arthur.  
He did one of his flourishing bows, but it was mocking. “Please excuse me for taking up a year of your life, Mr. Dee.” The door slammed closed behind him, rattling the window, before Arthur could think to call out. The fact he’d made a mistake was already catching up to him, but he was already pushing it away. If Myrnin had just told him where he’d been going, then things would have been fine. At least he could have left London knowing a bit more about Myrnin. What he had and didn’t have.  
He paced around the room for a little over half-an-hour before he reclaimed his seat. The track he’d worn into the floor, figuratively speaking, had worn down the anger. He was almost ready to cry by now. He took out his ledger, flipping through the book. Back to last year and the lines of writing.  
Myrnin.  
He’d listed himself, spidery handwriting very familiar by now. It might have been a joke, but that’s what he’d done. First name only.  
He’d have to be back, right? He had left before. Maybe never this mad, but … he always came back …  
\-- Born July 13, 1579, Arthur Dee married Isabella de Prestwich and became father to Rowland Dee, among others. He died in 1650. He was 71 years old.  
 _"The ceremonial rites were performed three-hundred-seventy-four years ago," he said, still quiet. "At least that's what his grave said. Died when he was seventy-one. He had several sons and daughters, you know? I_ saw _them. I must have been ... one-thousand-eight-hundred years old or something around that? About twenty years after I knew him, in_ his _time, I went back. Don't know why ... he'd probably forgotten about me. Would have knocked on the door, said something, said hello. I don't know. But I didn't. He had a family."_ – Myrnin

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGIN "Aggressive: 1650": Yet another difficult story to write. Moreso because it’s the end. No happy endings, no resolution. Just this. Just the end. Which didn’t really help, because I had just reached the same ending in one of my RPs and it was just as bad. Still. This story is still something I saw a purpose in writing. Though every bone in my body - the ones that like happy endings - hate this. The last parts are excerpts both from a small section of info on Arthur Dee and a bit of an RP post where Myrnin was explaining unfinished business.


End file.
